Luyện nghe bài hát Sad Millionaire

Can I do my

*(Yukmouth)*

on it.

*(Brownstone)*

Oh, oh, ohhh.
Oh, oh, ohh, hey.

1 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
Niggaz be havin the mutha blues,
like
I lie,
homicide,
will cry,
pray for me I won't die,
suicide,
I try,
fly,
drive-by,
let it slide, do or die,
you an I, by,
catch them off my side,
wit nothin to body die rot,
on porch,
when I expectin sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
lets breakin down the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,
so while we racin the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the cops is to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
even if have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
police they be the Rosco train,
swervin in an lanes,
from O-H-A,
what throw away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
every mutha wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
Ever a sad millionaire?
I thought that make us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a major on the block,
that a mac daddy, drivin a Caddy couldn't stop,
strap happy,
'cause niggaz all my rocks,
yo gats at me,
I know where uzis to yo knot,
fo wit the big shot,
I was juss droppin g bannos on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the baddest jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for bitches out who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
brand new hundred billz, an a choppa,
where niggaz strapped fo real, Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
'cause I be high like doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, bumpin Sinatra,
be the MOBBsta, who shot ya,
like Blanca,
come back in the end to haunt ya,
plus I twist a Benz Big Poppa,
the big proper use,
go get yo an do what ya gots to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You juss created a monsta,
fuck a type, I gonga,
in the Bahammas,
yo baby mama,
(whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
man,
who wow "Bout it, it",
niggaz be claimin be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the chasin clout it,
sky up out the four day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,
smokin blunts, an weed, sex,
fresh outta rehabs,
two g's at every function I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
bitches by the throat-a-lot,
that's what ya the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
light as I'm a her,
so called "potnaz", fuck 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I can't 'em,
bust 'em,
too skinny I trust 'em,
an when the mutha got meal tickets you might have to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth during chorus)*

Have all this fuckin money, an ain't happy. Nigga, still got
problems wit stress, mutha juss think you got it made, they try
to rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna love you.
money, I wish I have it, 'cause when I didn't have it it was all
good, niggaz loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an at the store.
Now ya got money wanna kill me, nigga, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, make a bucks.
Millionaire.